The Elephant in the Room
by calliopeiamuse08
Summary: A story from Booth's and Brennan's perspectives about the one thing both of them are thinking about but neither can discuss. Ch. 6: Sweets senses that something is up. Now complete. R&R, please.
1. Chapter 1

Booth sighed mentally and downed the last of his beer, tipping the bottle up to get the last drops out. What the hell had he gotten himself into? He'd always been an idiot for love, but this… this was a new level of stupidity. This had catastrophe written all over it.

And yet, he couldn't take his eyes off her, couldn't keep his hands off her, couldn't block her out of his mind for more than a few seconds. He kept finding excuses to put a hand on her back, or an arm around her shoulders, any reason to touch her._ How pathetic_, he silently rebuked himself. _Seeley Booth, copping a feel like a timid middle schooler. You're turning into one of the squint squad. _

And now here she was, half asleep on his couch, blissfully ignorant of his inner turmoil. How could she be so brilliant, and at the same time so oblivious? Of course, at times like these Booth was grateful for her inability to see the obvious, because God knows everybody else in the lab already saw straight through his professional façade. Even though this undercover love, these stolen moments of intimacy were torturing him like hell, he thought it might really kill him if she ever straight out rejected him. He felt panic at the mere thought of her ending their partnership because of his un-professional emotions. She would do it, too, if she ever found out. He remembered how freaked she'd been when her father came to work at the Jeffersonian; it would be just like that. She hated for her scientific life to be invaded by illogical sentiment.

She sighed and snuggled into the couch, a case file resting in her lap. Her eyes were drooping, and the pretence that she was reading the information in the file was growing shakier and shakier.

"It's getting pretty late, Bones," Booth said, flipping his own folder closed. "You wanna call it a night?"

"I only have a few more pages," she murmured, lazily flipping a loose sheet of paper. She shifted her weight and curled her stockinged legs up onto the couch between them, having long since abandoned her shoes.

Oh God. Booth loved and hated moments like these. He itched to run his hands along those legs, like he had in his dreams, to caress her smooth skin and God, just _feel_ her to see if she felt as incredible as his drug-addled mind had imagined. She was so alluring, too, when she was drowsy, so unselfconscious and effortlessly beautiful, sitting with him in comfortable silence. Not that he didn't get turned on by some of their more heated debates, but it was nice just to be with her, not needing to win or compete or prove a point.

He wished he could go back to where he was before the surgery. He'd been attracted to her then, too, but he'd only barely begun to realize exactly how far gone he was. He'd always brushed it off as the natural chemistry between two members of a great team – they were Holmes and Watson, Abbot and Costello, peanut butter and jelly. The electricity that crackled between them was the result of two minds working in perfect concert, not some personal attachment. And anyways, the idea of being anything more than colleagues was impossible, so he tried his hardest not to pursue it.

She stretched her legs a little, and rested her foot against his leg. Booth groaned inwardly and ignored his first instinct to scoot away. That would raise more questions from Bones ("I'm sorry, am I invading your personal space? Or are you just uncomfortable with feet?") and he didn't want to disturb the moment. Besides, deep down he knew he couldn't move away. He loved it too much. It was just like how he couldn't stop glancing at her when he thought she wouldn't notice.

All too soon she closed her file and stood up from the couch, stretching and yawning. "See you at the lab," she told him, grabbing her coat from the rack by the door. "Thank you for the Chinese."

"Bye," he called, his farewell punctuated by the closing of the door. He moaned and pressed the palm of his hand into his forehead, wishing he could unsee everything he'd seen in his coma dream. This shit was getting harder every day, and it sure as hell didn't look like she was going to make it any easier.


	2. Chapter 2

Brennan couldn't understand why Angela thought Booth was interested in her. She knew he was attracted to her, yes. That was hardly unexpected. After all, she was an attractive, intelligent, rich woman with a prestigious career. She would be more surprised if he showed no physical response at all. And truthfully, she found him desirable as well, even if he was not quite up to her mental caliber. His strong moral character and perverse resistance to cold science endeared him to her, strange as it may seem. However, their careers were much more important to both of them than some trivial biological urge to procreate. She liked that about Booth; even though he insisted on relying on his instincts instead of logic, he shared her drive and determination. The case took precedence above all else, especially personal wants and needs.

But Angela insisted there was more than that. She claimed that Booth was crazy about Brennan, that he was secretly madly in love with her. Her latest favorite phrase was that they were "spiritually linked," an idea so whimsically nonsensical that Brennan almost found it humorous. Still, she'd wondered if maybe Angela was right. She knew that she wasn't very good at reading people. She thought maybe she'd missed something with Booth, and she'd been watching him carefully ever since.

Brennan didn't see it. If Booth was in love with her, he certainly didn't act like it. He was courteous and familiar, but not overly familiar, quick to correct others when they assumed a relationship between them that didn't exist. In fact, he'd seemed more distant ever since the surgery, at times keeping her at an arm's length. He never tried to cross any physical boundaries, never complimented her shapely body, and never tried to engage her in any kind of sexual or even suggestive activity. The most he had ever done was look. She'd caught him looking longer than he should, when he thought she wouldn't notice. This seemed extremely poor support for Angela's theory, however. He'd never be convicted of love in a court of law.

Then again, there were times… usually right after the end of a case. They'd be strangely connected, and he'd gaze into her eyes so intensely, and she almost thought it seemed as though he were trying to communicate something that couldn't be said in words. She felt silly for thinking this as soon as it occurred to her. Still, those quite moments… something unquantifiable, immeasurable, something totally sentimental and irrational happened.

When she presented Angela with her findings, Angela infuriatingly dismissed her conclusions with a single glance of pity. "Oh sweetie," she said, a hint of laughter in her voice, "Of course he didn't _do_ anything. Booth is a gentleman. A chivalrous romantic hero of old."

"I find that hard to believe, considering that we live in the twenty-first century," Brennan countered, "and in our culture, ideals of chivalry and honor are considered archaic and outdated fantasies."

"Not to Booth," Angela insisted. "Look, Brennan. Booth doesn't want to make you feel uncomfortable. He doesn't want to jeopardize the platonic relationship you two already have by bringing sex into the mix."

"That's wise of him," Brennan responded. "I completely agree."

Angela rolled her eyes and dropped her notepad onto her desk in frustration. "But don't you see?" she persisted. "_It's already there_. It's already jeopardizing your relationship by being this huge elephant in the room that nobody will talk about, and it's stifling him. I can see it."

"_Everybody_ seems to want to talk about it lately," Brennan snapped, "and I don't agree with you, Angela. There is nothing between Booth and I but your wishful thinking." And with that she stormed out of the office and back to the lab where she belonged, where things were simple and clear-cut and purely rational.

Later, riding in the car with Booth, she couldn't help but reconsider Angela's words. They rode in silence, and it was a comfortable silence but silence all the same.

"Do you feel stifled?" she asked Booth.

"What?" He glanced at her in confusion.

"Are there things you want to say to me, but you can't because of the elephant?" she elaborated.

"What elephant? Bones, you're not making any sense here," he complained.

"It's a figure of speech that Angela used," Brennan explained. "She thinks that you're afraid to talk to me about certain things because of our professional relationship. That you're stifled."

"Oh." He returned his eyes to the road. "Well, that's ridiculous. You know we can talk about anything."

"That's what I told her."

He glanced at her again, a little longer than he probably should considering that he was driving. "And you know, Bones, our relationship is more than just professional."

"How do you mean?" Brennan asked, her heartbeat picking up for no discernible reason.

"Well, I like to think we have a personal relationship. That we're friends," he explained, a note of uncertainty in his voice. "I mean, we've saved each other's lives several times, we spend a lot of time outside of work together, we know each other's sordid pasts. We're friends, aren't we?" He looked at her again as he asked the last question.

"Of course," she said, somehow relieved and disappointed at the same time. "We're friends."

He smiled softly, watching the road, and she mirrored his smile, strangely hollow from her victory over Angela's theory.


	3. Chapter 3

The next day the final pieces of the case fell into place, and they made the big arrest. It turned out that the paranoid father of the victim was right, the remains that he had dug out of his daughter's grave were not hers; instead, they were the remains of the mortician's former wife, and the mortician had been keeping the girl in his basement ever since. It was a dangerous arrest, because the mortician was insane and armed, but in the end everyone made it out unharmed (except for the mortician, who took a bullet to the shoulder, but screw him anyways). The daughter was returned to her parents, and even though it would probably take years of therapy for her to really recover, at least she had those years now. Spirits were high, adrenaline was pumping in everyone's veins, and a celebration was in order.

The whole lab headed out to a noisy bar, and pretty soon everyone was raucous and tipsy except for Booth. It wasn't that he wasn't trying. He'd downed a few shots but his heart just wasn't in the party. Even he didn't really understand what was wrong. He should be happy, he should feel satisfied that the case was closed and yet for some reason he just felt… empty. Maybe it was the way the girl had looked at him when he'd untied her, the way she'd whimpered and cringed away from his touch. It just sickened him, what that man had done to her. He'd broken her. As he gulped down another beer he wished he'd had the stones to shoot him in the heart instead of winging him. Yeah, it would've looked bad, but he could have justified it. He sighed. Nah, he knew from experience that taking a human life, no matter whose, would have just left him even more heartsick. He tried to convince himself that there was more than enough evidence to convict him, and that death would have been letting him off too easy.

He watched Bones across the room, as she laughed and conversed with the others. Usually she was the one who had a hard time shucking off the tragedy of a case and resuming life as usual; it was weird to see their positions reversed. As unemotional as she tried to be, she often connected very strongly with the victims and their families, especially in missing persons cases like these. Well, good for her then, able to make merry and put the past behind her. At least _somebody_ was having a good time. Now that the case was over, there was nothing to distract him from his stupid feelings, and certainly no excuses to hang out with Bones until the next case rolled along. He wondered if he was a terrible person for wanting another mangled, unidentifiable body to turn up.

Cam approached him and took the seat at the bar next to him. "You don't seem to be joining in the festivities," she remarked. "What's up?"

"I guess I just can't get that girl out of my head," Booth sighed.

Cam smiled at him, that knowing smile she was so good at. "Maybe you should try replacing her with that one," she suggested, nodding her head at Bones.

Booth covered his face with his hand. Oh, if she only knew the half of it. "That's the last thing I should be doing right now, Camille," he groaned.

"What? Are you scared, Seeley?" she needled him. "Look, you've been moping around ever since the coma, and I don't think it has to with a case, or a victim, or a psychopath. I think it has to do with the fact that you're in love with Dr. Brennan and you're making yourself miserable about it."

"Oh, because see, I was under the impression that Bones and I had a job to do," he retorted sarcastically. "I can see that conversation going real well. Hey, Bones, guess what? I'm in love with you, hope you don't mind. Oh, what was that? You're going to ask the bureau to assign you a new agent? Well, just make sure to tell them that the reason you can't work with me is because I fell in love with you during a _coma-dream_ I had because of my _brain surgery_."

Cam narrowed her eyes. "She wouldn't do that and you know it, Seeley. I know that, right after the surgery, you were worried that it was a fluke, that your feelings would fade as you recovered. It's been long enough." She pierced him with a pointed glare. She was an excellent intimidator when she wanted to be. "It's become clear to me and anyone else who's spent more than five minutes with you that you're smitten. Look, now is the perfect time. She's happy, and relaxed, and she probably wouldn't object to stepping outside to get some fresh air. You're not going to get a better opportunity than that."

He considered, watching Bones and realizing that Camille was right. "Why do you always have to make so much sense?" he asked plainitively.

She smiled at him. "It's my job."

He got up from the bar stool with some trepidation, Cam watching him closely. What was it with him and smart, bossy women? He tapped Bones on the shoulder and she turned to him.

"Want to get some air?" he asked, gesturing towards the door with his thumb.

She nodded and followed him outside.

Outside it was cold and crisp, a deep chill settling in for the night. Their breaths formed steamy clouds and Booth rubbed his bare arms, wondering if this was a good idea. "So, Bones…" he began.

"Yes?" Bones encouraged him, standing close for warmth. The lamplight shone down on her hair just right, giving her the semblance of a halo, and accentuating the angles of her face.

"I…." At the last moment, he chickened out, just like he had several times before. Hell, he'd even gotten the words out one time, only to take them back and insist he'd meant that he loved her in a "professional" way. What did that even mean? No, he couldn't cop out like that again; she wouldn't buy it a second time. Best to just change the subject entirely. "You did a really good job tonight. We couldn't have caught that man without you."

"Well, that's why I'm an FBI consultant, isn't it?" she asked matter-of-factly. "Because you need me to solve cases."

"Yeah, but –" He groaned in frustration. The woman couldn't take a compliment sometimes. "Look, you went beyond your job description because you wanted to discover the truth. When the pieces didn't add up, you didn't settle. You kept digging. And that's what I love about you." Oh. He had ended up saying it anyways, in some small way.

Bones smiled, and his heart thudded painfully in his chest. "Thank you, Booth. I also admire your tenacity and integrity."

"Thanks." He gazed at her, and she gazed back, and for a moment – for one teensy moment he thought maybe he had a chance with her after all. And then she looked away, and the moment was over. He put a hand on her shoulder. "C'mon, let's get back inside. It's freezing out here."


	4. Chapter 4

The next day, Brennan was allowing herself the luxury of sleeping in when the cell phone on her nightstand rang. Groggily she answered it. "Hello?"

"Bones?"

She knew it was Booth immediately, but there was something wrong with his voice. It didn't have its usual timbre. "Booth? What is it?" she asked urgently, sitting up in her bed.

"The nursing home called and… Pops died this morning."

Now Brennan understood. She'd only met Hank once, but he was a very sweet old man and she knew he was extremely important to Booth. Having lost her mother, her heart went out to him – or at least, the part of her amygdala that produced the emotion of sympathy did. Your heart only pumps blood, after all. "I'm very sorry, Booth. Do you want me to come over?"

"Only if you're not busy."

Even Brennan could hear the insincerity in his voice. "It's no trouble," she assured him. "I'll be there as soon as I can." She hung up the phone, took a quick shower and got dressed, and then drove over to Booth's place.

When she knocked on the door, nobody answered. "Booth?" she called through the door. She began to worry. She didn't think Booth would do anything to endanger himself, no matter how grieved he was, but still…

He opened the door, and she was momentarily relieved until she saw his face. His eyes were red, he hadn't shaved, and he looked as if he might crumble apart at any moment. She did the only rational thing: she stepped inside and hugged him tightly, wishing she could be a metaphorical pillar of strength for him.

Hank's words echoed in her mind. _And when the time comes, you'll tell him, won't you?_ he'd said. _And you'll hold him, if he needs it? _Now she understood the time he was talking about.

Booth put his arms around her and squeezed her close, shutting the door as he did so. "Thanks for coming," he whispered, his voice cracking.

Brennan released him from her hug. "How did it happen?" she asked. She wondered if she was being too blunt again.

Evidently Booth didn't think so, because he made his way to the couch and sighed. "Heart attack. I guess he was taking all of his medications like he was supposed to, but he had a heart attack anyway." He put his face in his hands. "I knew he was getting old, but I didn't think…. He was just so _alive_, Bones! You saw him."

"Yes, I did." She took the seat next to him and tried to choose her words carefully. This was a hard time for Booth, and often she said things that unintentionally insulted or upbraided him. She didn't want to do that now. She wanted to comfort him, to make everything better, anything to make him smile. She couldn't bear to see him like this, suffering from a pain that she knew from experience was cutting him to the quick. She tried to reassure him the best she could. "Hank was a good man, Booth. He had an indomitable spirit, and he lived a full and rewarding life. I'm sure that he would want you to remember that."

"I just wish I could have said goodbye," Booth muttered, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. "I wish I could have spent more time with him, that Parker could have spent more time with him. He was more of a father to me than my real dad."

She knew she couldn't keep Hank's secret any longer. This was the time he had spoken of, she was sure of it. "Booth, when Hank was living with you, he told me something that he wanted me to tell you, when the time was right."

Booth looked at her, the surprise evident on his face.

She took a deep breath. "When your father left you, it was because of Hank. Hank saw him abusing you, and he told him to leave, and that he didn't deserve to be a father."

And with that, the last of Booth's composure crumbled, and he buried his head in his arms on his knees and sobbed silently, his shoulders shaking. Brennan at first didn't know what to do; she'd never seen Booth so upset. Then she remembered what Hank had told her. She scooted close to him and rubbed his back gently, and then reached her other arm underneath and pulled him to her, placing his head on her shoulder and holding him.

He responded well to this gesture, throwing his own arms around her and clutching her, his sobs wracking both their bodies now. Unexpected tears sprung to Brennan's eyes. Holding him close like this, his emotional pain was physically palpable, and she felt sharp answering pangs in her own chest. They stayed like that for a few minutes until his weeping quieted and he lifted his head off of her shoulders. He drew back from her, wiping his eyes. "What would I do without you?" he asked with a painful smile, his voice hoarse.

She smiled back at him, wiping her own face. "I suppose you'd have to cry on pillows instead."

He chuckled at that. "That was a good one, Bones. You're getting the hang of it."

She felt a small surge of pride. "Well, I learned from the best," she said.

Suddenly he kissed her, a short soft kiss that was almost a peck. She was surprised, but she also liked it. When he leaned back to look into her eyes, his own eyes widened.

"Oh, shit," he groaned, "I'm sorry Bones, I didn't mean to –"

She cut him off by placing her own mouth over his. She didn't know what came over her, but she had a strange desire to kiss him until he couldn't talk anymore. As she kissed him she realized that her body was simply moving a little more quickly than her brain, and now it was working itself out. Something had changed inside of her when he kissed her. Perhaps it was because he finally made a definitive gesture, demonstrating that Angela was right all along. Maybe it was the way he'd done it; it wasn't a kiss of pure physical desire but a caring, gentle kiss. She understood now that she wanted Booth, and she didn't care about the problem their work relationship posed. No one else in the lab seemed to care – certainly not Dr. Hodgins or Angela. She was Dr. Temperance Brennan, world renowned forensic anthropologist, and if she couldn't keep her private life and career separate, no one could.

He kissed her back, passionately and skillfully, and Brennan was confident she had made the right choice.


	5. Chapter 5

"Well, I learned from the best," she said.

Without thinking, Booth leaned in and kissed her. It was a simple kiss, the kind of kiss you give a lover to remind them that you love them without having to say it, a "thank you for being you" kiss. It was a reflex from a life he'd never lived, a life where he and Bones kissed all the time, a life where this sort of kiss was common. He was amazed at how quickly she could take his mind off of whatever was troubling him. Then it hit him what he'd done. "Oh, shit," he groaned, "I'm sorry Bones, I didn't mean to –"

And suddenly he couldn't talk anymore because her lips were on his, passionate and urgent, and his mind blanked completely. He kissed her back, ardent and eager because it felt _so damn good_ and he was consumed by her, breathing her in and running his hands up her back in that familiar way he'd done so many times before in his other life. She brought her arms up and over his shoulders, one hand in his hair and one on the side of his face, and that was different but _who cared_ because he just wanted to taste her all over and he moved down to the side of her neck, kissing her like he'd always wanted. She moaned a little, and he could feel the vibrations from her throat in his lips and _Jesus this was so much better than he'd imagined. _

Then somehow, in spite of the intense lust he was experiencing, he came to his senses and wondered how the hell he'd stepped into the Twilight Zone. Bones, making a move on _him_? Maybe she thought this would make him feel better... He realized with severe frustration that he had to stop this until some things got sorted out. Otherwise, he and Bones would have sex, and while that would be _fantastic_ while it lasted, the next day she'd be mad when he didn't think it was "just sex." He took Bones by the shoulders and held her at arm's length, sitting her on the couch. "Bones," he said seriously.

"Booth," she answered him, smiling, as if this were another word-association game.

He steeled himself for the big freak-out. This was it. There was no going back. He couldn't settle for some undefined sexual relationship and tell himself it was close enough. Either she forgave him for being emotionally involved or cut him out of her life forever. "You realize that I'm not just attracted to you, right?" he asked, looking into her eyes to make sure she understood. "I love you. Not atta-girl love, not buddy-buddy love, I'm talking head-over-heels, Romeo and Juliet love here."

"Romeo and Juliet knew each other for four days and committed suicide for each other," Bones reminded him, her eyebrows raised. "If that's the kind of love you're experiencing, I recommend that you seek counseling."

He rolled his eyes. "Jeez, Bones, that's not what I meant. I mean, romantic love. I love you." It sounded so strange coming out of his mouth, but it gave him a thrill to finally say it out loud. "I love you." Bones' face was totally calm, so that was a good sign… but then a cold jolt of fear shot through him. Bones was always calm and clear-headed. "Do you – do you – how do feel about me?" he stammered. He wasn't sure he was ready for the answer.

She cocked her head slightly. "Well, I respect you both professionally and personally. I'm attracted to you physically but I also admire many aspects of your character. I trust you with my life and I would do anything for you, and given wide variety of possible sexual partners, there's no one I'd rather be with than you. All things considered, I believe that, using the common conception of love in our society, I love you." She grinned and wiggled her eyebrows. "Is that romantic enough for you?"

He patted her shoulder. "We'll, uh, we'll work on the romantic stuff later." Then the enormity of what he'd said made him giddy. They _would_ work on it later. She loved him, and he loved her, and yeah, in the past neither of them had been very good at the relationship routine, but they had all the time in the world to practice. He laughed out loud. This was too good to be true. If he'd known it would be this easy, he'd have done it a long time ago.

"What's so funny?" Bones asked, amused.

"Just – this!" he exclaimed. "You, me, us! Who'd have thunk it?" He felt childishly excited, like a kid on Christmas standing in front of a big pile of presents.

"Well, Angela, for one," Bones admitted. "And Dr. Sweets, and my father, and Angela's psychic, and your grandfather…"

At the mention of Pops, Booth sobered up. Pops. How could he forget the reason Bones came over in the first place? And yet… somehow, this new thing made it more bearable. Deep in his heart he still hurt, of course. That wasn't going to go away for a long time. But just having someone to hold on to when things got rough, someone who loved him who could anchor him when he thought he'd be torn apart, made all the difference in the world.

"I'm sorry," Bones apologized softly. "I didn't mean to remind you."

"No, it's fine," he reassured her, sitting back on the couch. She turned around and sat next to him, and he put his arm around her. "I wish he coulda seen us together, though. He really liked you."

"I liked him too," she replied.

An all-too-familiar lump rose in Booth's throat, and his eyes burned, but he was all cried out for the day. He pulled Bones in closer, kissing the top of her head. She snuggled into his arm and sighed. "I wonder what everyone in the lab will say when they find out about us," she murmured.

Booth got a mischievous idea. "Who says we have to tell them?" he asked.

Bones looked up at him, puzzled. "Why wouldn't we tell them?"

"Oh, I don't know. Just to have a little fun with them. See how long it takes 'em to figure it out," he suggested. "After all, they're not entitled to every detail of our personal lives."

Bones considered. "It _would_ be interesting to see if we could successfully mask our relationship from everyone at the Jeffersonian," she remarked.

"Alright then," Booth replied, grinning. That heady excitement was coming back to him. "Operation Conceal Canoodling is a go. But first…" He removed his arm from around her shoulders. "We have a reconnaissance mission in… _Tickle-opolis_!" And with that he began tickling her stomach enthusiastically.

It turned out that Bones was extremely ticklish. "Stop!" she protested between gales of laughter, curled in a ball and batting playfully at his arms.

"Okay," he complied, leaning over her and kissing her. She uncurled herself and now she was half-laying on the couch, grabbing his shirtfront and pulling him in to deepen the kiss. It was different from their earlier kiss, which had been hurried and almost frantic. This one was a slow, deep-burning kind of kiss that made him tingle all over, the kind of kiss born of a deep hunger that only intensified as it went on. When their lips parted his breathing was raggedy, and her cheeks were flushed.

She smiled slowly. "May I suggest moving this activity to another room?"

"Good idea," he murmured, unable to resist kissing her on the bridge of her nose before sitting up. "You always were the smart one."


	6. Chapter 6

Agent Booth and Dr. Brennan sat in Dr. Sweets' office, about a week after the close of the mortician case. Sweets noticed with some surprise that they were both sitting on the couch. Booth usually liked to subtly assert his control over the situation either by sitting away from his indicated seat (sometimes on the arm of the couch, sometimes on the windowsill), standing, or pacing. Today, though, he sat compliantly next to Dr. Brennan, and it was clear that he was more relaxed and content than he'd been in a while.

"Hello, Agent Booth, Dr. Brennan," Sweets began. "How have things been going?"

Sweets thought he saw a momentary smirk flicker over Booth's face. "Oh, pretty well," he answered nonchalantly.

"We solved another murder last week," Dr. Brennan offered. Sweets always thought it was interesting that, although Dr. Brennan was the one who really hated psychology, she rarely rebelled like Booth did. She almost always humored him to some extent. He theorized it was because she only disrespected Sweets' chosen field, while Booth seemed to disrespect him personally. In any case, he appreciated it. Working with these two was like herding cats sometimes.

"Yes, I heard about that," Sweets responded. "And I also heard that your grandfather passed away, Agent Booth." He leaned forward sympathetically and clasped his hands. "I'm sorry for your loss." And he really was. Hank had treated him much the way Booth did, even more so in fact, but he could tell how much he'd loved Booth and how much Booth had loved him back.

Booth's eyes were troubled at the mention of his grandfather, but he just crossed his arms and attempted a wan half-smile. "Thanks."

"The death of a loved one is a very difficult thing," Sweets continued gently. "You're probably experiencing some deep feelings of loss and disorientation, and it's important that you share your feelings with others instead of burying them." He hoped that maybe this once, Booth would take his advice. He wasn't just speaking as a psychologist, but also from his own experience when his parents passed away. "You have to communicate with the people around you. Don't be afraid to ask for help."

When he said _communicate_, Booth and Dr. Brennan definitely exchanged a glance. Sweets also noticed that, as he was talking and focused on Booth, Dr. Brennan had surreptitiously slid her hand over the couch so that it was just touching Booth's leg. He thought that maybe she was offering Booth some support in his time of need, but still… Something was up.

"You don't need to worry about that," Dr. Brennan remarked. "Booth and I have been communicating excellently."

There it was again, a nanosecond of a smile on Booth's face, covered as he put his hand to his jaw. Sweets narrowed his eyes. That did it. They were hiding something from him, he was sure of it. "Is there something you two want to tell me?" he asked suspiciously, realizing he sounded like a mother confronting her chocolate-covered children about the missing candy bars.

"What are you talking about, Sweets?" Booth asked, the perfect image of befuddlement (except for the amused gleam in his eye).

"I think he's implying that we're not being entirely honest with him," Dr. Brennan explained innocently.

"Us, dishonest?" Booth asked her indignantly.

"His implication _is_ rather insulting," she agreed. "Especially considering the high premium I place on truthfulness in the lab."

Sweets sighed. They liked to do this a lot, talking about him as if he wasn't there. He'd learned to tolerate it – barely.

"Well, he probably suspects me more than he does you," Booth teased, patting Dr. Brennan on the knee, and keeping his hand there.

His hand on her knee – suddenly a light bulb switched on over Sweets' head. "Are you two – Have you –" he sputtered.

Suddenly Booth's phone rang. He pulled it out and looked at it. "Sorry Sweets, gotta take this, could be about the case," Booth said. He answered the phone and after a brief exchange hung up. "Yup, they've moved the body to the lab and we need to go see it! C'mon Bones!" Booth grabbed Dr. Brennan by the arm, flashed a devious grin at Sweets, and practically sprinted out the door.

Sweets pursed his lips in frustration. Agent Booth was the king of avoiding tricky questions (not to mention that his phone always had excellent timing), but what he had seen was enough. He was almost certain that they were sleeping together, or at the very least romantically involved. In spite of himself, he smiled. He _knew _they would end up together! Take that, Miss Psychology-Isn't-Science and Mister You-Don't-Look-Old-Enough-To-Shave.

Then he cleared his throat and stood up from his chair, returning to his desk. It wasn't professional to gloat. But man, he _so_ called it.

~*~

Booth and Brennan stood right outside the Jeffersonian lab, just beyond the clear sliding doors where no one could see them. Brennan playfully pulled on Booth's tie and drew him into a kiss, relishing the danger of being caught in the act. Operation Conceal Canoodling had been successful for the day; they'd gone over the body, which held many contradictory and puzzling clues but seemed almost certainly a homicide, and no one had been the wiser to their new development.

Brennan was pleased by this outcome, because it proved that they could work together _and_ be lovers. Booth was a little turned on by the secrecy, but he was also glad that they'd be found out sooner or later. Acting as if they were "forbidden lovers" made every stolen moment a little more exciting, but he knew in a few weeks it would be less thrilling and more inconvenient. Not to mention, he had a cave-man-like urge to tell all the other men in a one-mile radius that she was _his_. _His_ girl Bones.

"Bye," he murmured, giving her one last goodbye peck.

"Bye," she responded, smiling coyly and releasing his tie. "See you tonight."

_She's got me right where she wants me_, Booth thought happily. _I think I got it wrong. She's not mine – I'm totally, one-hundred percent _hers.

When Brennan returned to her office to finish up some paperwork, she found Angela waiting for her there, two big steaming mugs of tea in her hands. Angela handed her a mug and sat down on the couch, patting the seat next to her. "Time for some girl talk, Brennan," she ordered.

Brennan sat down and placed her mug carefully on the coffee table. "About what?" she asked, confused.

"About you," Angela said, as if it were obvious. "It's time for you to fess up. There's something going on between you and Booth, isn't there?"

Brennan opened and shut her mouth. "No," she finally replied unconvincingly.

"Oh come on." Angela rolled her eyes exasperatedly. "I saw you checking him out, and you _never_ check him out, and he checked you out right back. You were undressing each other with your eyes. I was surprised when you two didn't disappear into a storage room and emerge an hour later with your shirts buttoned up wrong." Angela made her best puppy-dog eyes at Brennan. "I'm your best friend, Brennan. _I'd_ tell_ you_ if I was having a steamy affair with a sexy FBI agent."

Brennan considered this for a moment. It was true, Angela _did_ tell her everything. And even though they were trying to keep it a secret, it seemed that Angela had already come to her own conclusions…. She relented. "You were right. Booth _is_ in love with me," she admitted. "And I love him back."

Angela's eyes widened in shocked delight, and she clutched her mug in both hands, biting her lip in an effort not to squeal. She leaned forward and whispered conspiratorially, "So are the rumors true? Is he fantastic in the sack?"

Brennan smiled. "He's a very skilled lover," she replied in hushed tones, "but I'm much more imaginative than he is."

Angela laughed loudly. "I'm not surprised."

Suddenly Cam walked through the door. "Dr. Brennan, I was just going to ask you about some –" She saw Angela on the couch and stopped. She looked at Angela expectantly.

Angela gave her a thumbs up.

Cam grinned. "It seems Mr. Nigel Murray owes me some money."

Hodgins popped his head in. "Hey, Dr. Brennan, I got some results on the -" He took a look at Angela and Brennan sitting together, Cam's triumphant face and broke into a smile. "I knew it!" he exclaimed. "Yes! I'm taking Wendell to the cleaners!"

"Is there anyone who doesn't know?" Brennan asked, disappointed that she and Booth hadn't managed to keep up Operation Conceal Canoodling for more even a day.

"C'mon, Dr. Brennan," Hodgins teased her. "You can't keep anything from us. We're scientists. Curiosity is part of our job description."

Brennan was about to protest that that was patently untrue when she realized it was a joke. She sighed. Perhaps Clark Edison was correct when he said that the scientists of the Jeffersonian shared too much.

~*~

"So they were taking _bets_ on us?" Booth asked incredulously.

"Evidently we're extremely transparent," Brennan replied. Then she remembered something. "Oh, and Dr. Hodgins wanted me to tell you that he needs to have a man-to-man talk with you about what will happen if you ever hurt me."

"Of course he does," Booth muttered. He couldn't believe they'd been outed so quickly; he'd really thought they'd pulled it off.

Brennan placed a hand on his knee. "But, I still love you, so that alleviates the disappointment somewhat, doesn't it?"

He put his hand over hers and smiled. "I love you too." It still gave him a warm fuzzy feeling to hear it, and to say it. He put his arms around her and kissed her, pretending that the outside world of corpses and murderers and nosy squints didn't exist.

She kissed him back, and though she knew it was impossible, she felt like everything was truly perfect.


End file.
